


to touch you for the first time

by unnohrian (cuddlebros)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, First Time, Lesbian Sex, Maids, Reader-Insert, Traditions, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-09 06:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20990108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlebros/pseuds/unnohrian
Summary: With some gentle prompting, Flora decides she's ready to move on in her life. When your girlfriend becomes Chief of the Ice Tribe, many things change--but they always seem to be for the better.





	to touch you for the first time

Days as a maid may have been monotonous, but you were fortunate enough to have a bright light at the end of them: Flora. Where she handled her duties with ease, you found matching her perfection a struggle--but every night you were rewarded with a chaste kiss and a murmured “well done” in the shadow of the dorms. 

Tonight, the two of you take your short break together in the dead of night, staring up at the stars from the step behind the kitchens. It had been a long day, full of bloody laundry and muddy footprints from the returning army--but it had been a good day, too. Corrin was sure that the end of the war was near, and whispers of finality spread like wildfire through the servants. All this talk of the future had you sentimental. It would be difficult not to be thoughtful, not to let your mind wander towards a life free of the horrors of war. Finally, those thoughts break out, breaking the silence.

“What comes after this?” you wonder aloud. “After the war?”

“After?” From the corner of your eye, you catch her head move from staring at the sky to look at you. “I suppose I’ve never thought about it. I… I never thought we would ever be able to leave. I’ve always thought Felicia and I would be stuck here forever.”

“Do you think you would leave? If Corrin said we were all free to do what we wanted, would you consider it?”

“...I’m a maid. I’ll continue being a maid, I suppose.”

You snort. “I doubt that Corrin would force you to stay here once she learns how you came to be a servant. You’ve served her well, Flora. You may feel uncertain of your skills, but you’ve turned the tides in our favour more than once--you have the ability to be  _ more _ .”

“I… perhaps you’re right. But I enjoy serving. I wouldn’t know what to do other than be a maid.”

“What about your tribe? Could you go back to be with your people?”

“It’s a possibility, I suppose. But I’d be expected to lead them, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that--if I ever  _ will _ be ready.”

“Well, whatever you choose, I’ll be with you for it. We could always become old maids together.”

She squeezes your hand in thanks, kisses you soft and quick, and leaves, returning to her duties with questions she’d never considered rolling like a tempest through her mind.

* * *

The questions you’d asked just over a year ago had led the pair of you back to Flora’s home, the Tribe she had been stolen from so many years ago. And it was your home now, too, where you and the love of your life were learning to live for yourselves. It wasn’t always easy, but it was full of little pleasures you had never had before. Speaking of little pleasures--

“You weren’t in bed this morning, my love. Is everything okay?

Finally being able to fall asleep next to Flora was one of the new things you treasured most. There had been no beds to share in either of your quarters, and the few times you had tried to share a single mattress had found you hitting the cold flagstone floor in the early hours of the morning.

Now, with her appointment as Chief of the Ice Tribe, you were finally free to fall asleep in each other's arms--and it was  _ wonderful _ . Her bed was large enough for the two of you and more, and covered in heirlooms and gifts from her tribespeople--knitted blankets and fur throws, quilts padded with wool. Being able to cuddle into her side when the cold rolled in and the sun had set was one of your newly discovered greatest joys. 

Some nights, however, the two of you were kept apart. The one thing the tribe were short on were skilled healers, and though a couple of youngsters were apprenticing under your girlfriend, they still weren’t quite trained enough to be left alone. Flora had proven her abilities in a trial by fire when you had arrived: delivering two babies and presiding over a number of fevers within the first week of her appointment as chief.

It was awful when she had to spend a night away--the bed cooled too much for you to sleep, so you’d often follow her, sleep-blind and useless, chasing her warmth into the house of the unexpected illness until you could share it again. That you’d not noticed her leaving this morning was unusual enough to comment on.

“Everyone is fine, little bunting. Some of the elders summoned me for an important discussion at sunrise, but you looked too peaceful to rouse.”

You snort and sit up in bed. Looking cute might have been a specialty of yours, but it didn’t often stop Flora from waking you. Old habits died hard indeed: she had the two of you up and ready every morning before the smoke was rising from the bakers’ chimney. She was hiding something from you, but you were in no mood to pursue it. Badgering your love for information could come later; for now, it was time to get dressed and light the fires.

* * *

You find her again in the lull of the day. It’s the time before dinner when everyone huddles in their homes, preparing for the call to the dining hall. It’s time that she often takes for herself--when she can. She sits atop one of the outcroppings that overlook the village, taking a shift from a guard so that they can spend some time with their young family, something they’d been happy to tell you when you asked where she was.

“Gold for your thoughts, bluebird?”

She hums through a smile, pulls you close to her when you’re within reach, and kisses your cheek. The two of you watch over the village, watching as people, small as bugs from up here, scurry home to wash up for dinner, wrangle kids indoors and make last-minute deliveries.

“My father raised me to lead these people,” she says, “but I never thought it would happen. Felicia was the one proficient with weapons, the one with the confidence a leader needs--I had always planned to relinquish the title to her.”

You think of every plate Felicia has dropped, every time you’d found Flora helping her clean up her mess, every stuttered word the pink-haired twin had ever uttered to you. You’re confused. “But you’re the confident one.” 

Her fingers fidget around your ribs, and though it tickles, you try and stay still. Flora keeps her eyes fixed firmly on the movement of the village. “Perhaps I appear so now, but it has not always been the case. As we were growing up, Felicia showed the most promise with weapons. I lived in her shadow. My abilities only came to light when I became a maid, and my confidence with it.”

You think the gears turning in your brain must be audible, because you can almost hear the ‘click’ when things fall into place. “Which is why you took so much pride in your work… you know, Flora, every day I discover something new about you. It’s amazing,” you say. You’re sure you’re wearing a soppy grin, but Flora has always been able to do that to you.

She coughs and flushes, then continues. “The reason this is important now is that I hadn’t learned about one of our practices. I hadn’t had the chance. An outsider falls under the blessing of the one who vouches for them, but they still have a limited time to stay. It’s a means of protection--”

“Anyone who outstays their welcome is likely to be a threat,” you surmise.

“Indeed. As chief, my blessing has lasted us quite a while longer than normal, but for you to stay, we have to have you join our tribe. Officially.”

“That’s what the elders called you for this morning, isn’t it?” She nods. “Is that all? Flora, I’d love to become one of your people.”

Her stern gaze melts a little as you speak. “I know you would, darling. Which is why I wanted to ask you how you wished to become one of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have choices. You will always have choices, my love--even the choice to leave. Our first choice is to be married. I bring this up only because it was brought up to me: I know you are unready for it. You could be adopted by a family, though that could create problems with the chiefly line...”

“I assume there’s a choice you’d prefer, then?”

“Well, perhaps. There’s a bond that we cherish here, in a way that’s… unusual for the rest of the land. Between ones who choose to lay for the first time with each other. It’s not that they are bound together forever--how many foolish young trysts would emerge from that!--it’s that both parties chose to lay their trust at the feet of the other. Many drift apart, of course, but that bond is special. Most become lifelong friends, or at the least have a deep respect for each other. If we were to choose each other, you would be welcomed into our tribe.” At your pensive expression, she continues. “This is not something I’m asking you to decide on now. I understand it’s a big choice, sacred bond or not. Know that if you say no, I will fight my hardest to find another way--”

“It won’t be necessary.” Her eyes are worried, but they find comfort in your calm. “Flora, I’d be honoured to be the one you chose to lay with. If you’re ready, then so am I.”

A smile bigger than you’d ever seen spreads across her face, and you swear to the gods that you’d raze the world to the ground to see it again. It’s a warm thing that brings out a blush in her cheeks, and you’re ready to discuss the matter further when you hear the call to dinner.

“We’ll talk about this later, yes?”

The thought of a full, warm belly, followed by a long discussion with your love--there’s no better way to spend an evening, in your mind. 

You’re sure the villagers are curious as to the love-sick smiles you wear at supper, but no-one comments.

* * *

You hadn’t been around in the years before Flora found her strength in being a maid. She seems so shy, almost insecure about making love to you, and it makes a warm little thing burrow into your heart. Yes, you had your own nerves--what would Flora think of you when you were undressed? Would you be able to satisfy the woman you loved in the way you wanted? What if you didn’t perform well, and let her down?--but knowing that she was just as unsure went quite a ways to soothing your racing pulse.

“Can I… can I undress you?” you ask, quietly. Flora hesitates, then nods, and you kiss her with assurance. Her robes are the same taupe her father wore, but she doesn’t wear her armour or her headpiece, not today. She wears her robes informally right now, pulled together just enough that you can see the teasing beginning of cleavage before her belt pulls the cloth together.

Undressing her brings back memories of times where this was an everyday task, where dressing and undressing nobility was a duty, not a pleasure. Practised fingers make short work of the knot of her belt, pulling it away from her body and letting it drop to the floor--but neither of you notice, eyes lost in each other. Her robe hangs loose now, falling apart so that you can see the middle of her breast wrappings and the v of her underwear. You’d seen her in her underthings many times before, though never in so sensual a setting. Your hands work under her robe, touching her shoulder and sliding it down her arms until she’s almost bare in front of you.

“What--what do you think?”

She’s pale, so pale that you can imagine her blending into the ice outside. You can see the light red marks where her garter had dug into the flesh of her thigh, and marks on her waist where a belt kept her chieftains robes tugged in tight. She’s marked by her service, little reminders that her life was shared, and you think they’re beautiful. All of her is beautiful.

“You’re even more stunning than I’d imagined, my love--you’re beautiful!”

“You imagined me?”

“Of course! Wait, is that weird?”

“No, no--I just… I didn’t realise.” She flushes rosy red from her neck to her cheeks. “I’ve thought about you, too, imagined your body many times.” 

“Maybe we should talk about these things more,” you suggest, “so we’re not so nervous about things. Because I’ve wanted you for so long, my love, and I’m starting to wish I’d told you.”

She cups your face with her cold hands, cooling down the flushed skin of your cheeks. “I’ll tell you now, then, that my thoughts have wandered under your smallclothes many nights, and my fingers itch to undress you. May I?”

It’s not a question she had to ask, but you’re glad she made sure to ask it.

You didn’t share Flora’s acclimation to the cold: just seeing her in her thin robe often made you shiver. She had bought warm clothes for you, thick leggings and warm knitted tunics, socks and boots and hats that marked you as an obvious outsider, which often had the villagers looking at you with the same fondness as a child who was still learning to walk. In preparation for tonight, you had shucked off your leggings as soon as you had arrived home, leaving only your tunic and underclothes covering you.

Flora easily traces her hands up your thighs, bunching the material of your tunic until it’s over your waist, following your arms when you raise them--and then you, too, are almost bare.

You feel your nerves shrivel under her firm stare. Silence rings loud in your ears. “What is it? I-”

“You never told me you were a goddess.”

“Flora, you’re exaggerating…”

“I’m not.” She’s sure of herself, more sure than you think you’ve ever heard her. “Your face, your mind, your heart--they’ve always been attractive, but your body is truly blessed, my love.”

For someone who could be so insecure, Flora weaved words that warmed you in a way that romantic poets could only dream of. She wasn’t all talk, either; her face says the same things, gaze pointed and heated and telling you that yes, she  _ really does _ want you.

You make the first move to take things further, undoing the bindings of her breast band and pulling her underwear down until she can step out of them. She’s all soft skin and lithe body in front of you, and you cannot  _ wait _ to feel every inch of her. She returns the gesture with just as much tenderness, her breath fanning warm over your skin when she gets close enough.

She returns the favour, though she takes more time with you. Her nails gently graze your skin as she takes her time with your breast band, and she kneels to make sure she can pull your underwear down with the same care. The material feels so much more sensual than normal as it travels down your thighs--perhaps because you know that your lover is now face-to-face with your most intimate area. A tension grows in you that isn’t entirely unpleasant.

You step out of your underthings when they reach your feet, letting Flora throw them somewhere into the dim of your room. “You’re cute on your knees, darling.”

“You just have a thing for powerful women looking vulnerable,” she accuses playfully, and she’s not wrong. Your wandering eye around the nobles the two of you dressed had been what clued Flora in to your penchant for women, and her eventual confession. Now that she was Chief, well--it felt good to know she would still kneel for you. You’re equals, though, so you offer her your hand as she stands up, and she takes it with gratitude.

She lets you lead her to the bed, her back hitting the furs just before you climb over her. Your mouths meet in passionate understanding, lips and tongues a comfort as they trace familiar paths. She tastes berries and kisses like summer, warm and wet and  _ fun _ , and your uncertainty melts away with it. This woman loves you, loves you when you’re tired and grumpy and when you’re glorious in the joy of a festival. She loved you when both of you were lowly maids, and she loves you just the same in your new station. It’s your honour, now, to love her the same way.

You lower yourself until your wet cunt is resting on her stomach, and even that light contact has you baying for more. Flora’s hands grab your hips when you start rocking against her, firm enough that you can feel her marking your skin.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Flora, I don’t know what I’m doing either. But I have some ideas. Can I…”

“Do what you will with me. Make me see stars, my love.”

Your fingers begin by trailing new skin, finding places that make her gasp. Her nipples pebble into little pink buds under your fingers, like the little lingonberries you’d eaten for dessert, and you can’t help yourself but to take a taste. Her breast is soft and perky in your mouth, begging you to make teasingly soft bites and lick where you can. She whimpers beneath you, and you’re sure you can feel her stomach fluttering against your pussy.

“Gods, my love,” she breathes, “your mouth is… keep--keep going, please...”

You use her encouragement to will your shaking fingers to find her mound, glide through her fine blue hair to find her wet and waiting. Her lips are so soft, the softest skin you think you’ve ever felt, and the need to feel  _ more _ is overwhelming. You let your index finger gather some of her slick, and use it to guide your way into her. She grinds down on you almost immediately, her cunt gripping at your single digit as she keens above you. Flora makes such pretty noises, and you’re still on your first finger. What will she sound like when she gets more?

You barely wait for an answer. Your first finger fucks her slowly, slow enough that when you add another, you can almost feel the stretch yourself.

“ _ Gods, _ honey, whatever you’re doing don’t stop--”

She could be talking about your tongue swirling around her nipple, or your fingers searching for that special place you’d heard drove women wild, but whichever it is, you have no intention of stopping. But there’s something else you want to try.

Her breath hitches when you move, when your fingers leave her pussy to begin making circles around her clit, moving the little bud in a way you think she’ll love. You’re right, incredibly right, because her fingers fly to your hair and tangle in it, needing to be tethered to you in some way as her hips buck wildly in the air. It only takes a little while for your fingers to bring her to completion, soaking them even further.

She keeps your hair in her hands, but you move your lips in a line of kisses up, up, away from her nipple to her neck. You suck a dark bruise there; not a warning to others, but a reassurance for her. She’s yours, just as you are hers. She breathes heavily above you, gorgeous and flushed and glowing in orgasm: and perhaps the gods had chosen you for her, chosen your heart to beat for her, because the sight just feels  _ right _ .

“Sorry…” she says when she’s recovered. She seems shy all over again, though you can’t for the life of you work out why. “I thought I’d last longer, but… your fingers are talented, little bunting.”

You beam with pride. “What could you have to be sorry about? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Flora. I might get an ego if it’s like that every time.” You lick your fingers to prove your point, revelling in the first taste you’ve ever had of her.

She rolls her eyes at you, but she’s smiling as she switches your places. “Here, your turn now. I want to use my mouth on you.”

You had imagined this many times, her touch, the feel of her, but it paled in comparison to reality. Her kisses have you yearning for more--and you had never thought you were that sensitive, but when Flora takes a nipple in her mouth;  _ gods help you _ . It’s as if every nerve you’d ever had is in her mouth, being rolled around by the warm wetness of her tongue until it’s all you can feel, all you want to feel. Her hand absentmindedly rolls your other bud between two soft fingers, and all of that feeling goes straight your cunt.

If she’d been feeling even a part of this, how did she agree to let you stop?

She lets your nipple go, even though you keen with the loss, and kisses a sure path down your stomach, her eyes never leaving yours. The baby blue of them is intoxicating, and when the flat of her tongue comes out to explore your cunt, you aren’t sure intoxication is out of the question. She licks a confident, heavy stripe up your pussy that collects your wetness on her tongue. Her moan at your taste reverberates through you: you can’t help but tighten your thighs around her ears.

“You like that?”

“Gods Flora, you do that again, I’ll do anything you want.”

She chuckles, then dips her head back down, eyes closed this time. Those sure, broad strokes increase in pace until you’re bucking into her mouth, desperate to be closer. Your love has the makings of a tease in her, you can tell, because she backs off when you feel yourself coming close.

“Flora…”

“I think you can last longer, darling,” she suggests, fingers searching your hips now. They find spots that send twinges back to your wanting cunt, and you groan with the unfairness of it all. “Everything's better when you wait for it, no?”

Perhaps she’s right, but you’re not built for patience. You’re more than happy when her tongue touches you again, this time circling your clit--and dear lord, no wonder she had come so quickly, your clit was like pure sensation concentrated in one place.

Her hands aren’t idle, finding little sensitive places that make you jump. The skin of your thighs, soft as it may be, is like a hotbed of feeling, and when she starts massaging it you wonder if you’ll ever be able to think of that innocent patch of skin in the same way again. The press of her fingertips to your hip keeps you grounded as you bay into her tongue. She’s showering every inch of you in attention, and it makes you feel beautiful.

You clench around nothing, begging for something,  _ anything _ , to throw you into orgasm, and she gives it to you. Her tongue worms it’s way into your eager cunt, and is almost immediately urged deeper, deeper into you, until you can feel your darlings lips at your opening. It’s not enough though, so frustratingly close, but then her fingers are working your clit, and  _ yes, yes, right there-- _

Have your eyes ever been squeezed so tightly? Sparks of colour burst behind your eyelids, so plentiful that you think you can feel the colours. You come with a shout, a bright, pleased noise that echoes through your home and likely travels all the way to Valla. Flora’s tongue only leaves you when you guide her head away, and it’s soon chasing your mouth. She makes her way back up the bed, holding you close to her until her soft lips pull away.

“Was I… was it okay? I can use my fingers, if it wasn’t enough--”

“Flora, did you hear the noise I just made? I think you’d kill me if you did,” you say through a breathy laugh, “no, my bluebird. You were wonderful. I think… I’m more than glad that we chose to bond this way, my love.”

She hums. “It was… I’m glad that you chose me. I was worried...”

Insecurity worms its way back into her voice, and you instinctively pull her closer to you, rubbing her shoulder in comfort. “What could you have to be worried about?”

“You could have had anyone. A more experienced lover, a more powerful one--but you chose me. I feared I would not be enough for you. But I know now, now that we’ve shared an experience, a bond like this together--I know we were made for each other. There is no one I would rather have shared this night with.”

Tears bud at your eyes, but you burrow your face into her neck to hide them. Now is her turn to hold you tighter. You had shared a bond even before this, a bond that was present when she spoke like this: you thought similarly, felt similarly, found comfort in the same things. Exhaustion hits the pair of you at a similar time, too.

Tired from a night of emotional firsts and physical love, you begin to drift off in your lovers arms. Before you travel to the land of dreams, you catch a whisper. “May we bond like this for many years to come.”

In the morning, you’ll be happy to cheers to that.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was for goth-tiefling on tumblr! The first of my new batch of requests. It was for Flora and the reader to have some gentle, loving first time sex. It was really nice to work for Flora, because I didn't have much idea about her character outside of her being Felicia's sister. It's always fun to get to know a character better!
> 
> A note that buntings are adorable little birds that live in cold weather, and I thought Flora and the reader would love to call each other bird names because I have a very strange idea of what romance is.
> 
> As always, you can find me at cuddlebros.tumblr.com, where I take suggestions, criticism (constructive, though!), and you can tell me if there are any mistakes (because this is totally un-beta'd and I edit while I am... Very Tired) or anything you see! (And I have a link to my ko-fi there now, too!)


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